“I’ll have the patty melt, an order of fries, and a strawberry shake,” Hudson said, not even glancing down at the menu in front of him.
“Gotcha.” Donna scribbled a note on her pad and turned to Felicia. “How ’bout you, hon?”
Everything looked amazing. She debated ordering what most of Hudson’s dates probably ordered—a glass of water and a wedge of lemon—but to prove to herself that he had no more effect on her than one of her brothers, and that this was most definitely not a date, she ordered what she really wanted. “Double bacon cheeseburger, large fry, side salad, blue cheese on the side, cup of fresh fruit, and a large vanilla shake.”
“Gotcha,” the waitress nodded, sending her french fry earrings bobbing.
After Donna took their menus and left, Felicia looked up to see Hudson staring at her with what looked like awe.
“Are you taking some home to a starving, house-bound neighbor?” he asked.
“Very funny.” She rolled her eyes. “I had to skip lunch because of an unscheduled tour for some big muckety-muck.”
He tsked, but there wasn’t a flicker of regret on his face. “I hate it when that happens.”
A giggle just bubbled out. It wasn’t a sound she normally made, but it wasn’t like she spent a lot of time around someone as teasingly incorrigible as Hudson Carlyle. She was used to people like her family. Loud, straight to the point, and without the ability to let go of a bone once they got hold of it. There were red Irish, black Irish, and then so-bull-headed-their-ancestors-got-kicked-off-the-island-for-rebel-activities Irish. The Hartigans fell into all three categories. And just like the rest of them, she couldn’t let anything go.
“Now,” she said, “tell me the real reason why you think I don’t really want Tyler.”
“Because if you did…” His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered just long enough to take weight. “If you really wanted him, you’d have him by now.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks, and not for the first, millionth, or last time in her life she cursed her pale-but-at-least-not-freckled skin. “Flattery? That’s your new angle?”
He shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
She didn’t know what to do with that, so she did what she always did when confronted with things she’d analyze to death later—she ignored it and barreled ahead. “You’re wrong, but let’s put that to the side for a minute. Why do you want to help me? You don’t even know me.”
“Would you believe I’m a sucker for a pretty girl who blushes?”
Of course, Donna picked that moment to drop off their shakes. She looked from Hudson to Felicia, an indulgent smile on her face. “You’re a sucker for every kind of girl, Hudson Carlyle—and this one, as pretty as she is, has enough lights on upstairs to know it.”
Mentally high-fiving her fellow woman, Felicia held up her shake in salute. By the time she turned back to Hudson, he was already in shake nirvana, seemingly oblivious to the burn the waitress had delivered. Since joining him seemed like the best choice, she took a sip of her shake. The creamy ice cream hit first, followed by a wallop of vanilla bean that gave a whole new meaning to the flavor vanilla. Intent on her shake, she didn’t even realize Hudson had stopped until he spoke.
“I need your help,” he said, stirring his shake with his straw. “Tyler and my brother used to be tight, then Tyler’s fiancée tried to bang Sawyer the night before she and Tyler were supposed to get hitched.”
“Oh my God!” That filled in a big blank spot. “I knew something had happened, but I had no idea what. He wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Would you in that situation?”
“After my best friend slept with my fiancée? Probably not.”
Hudson scowled. “Sawyer didn’t sleep or anything else with her. He kicked her out.”
Ouch. “So why the big bust-up between them?”
“No clue, but it’s gone on long enough.” Determination added some gravel to his tone.
“And you want to get them back together?” she asked, still trying to understand why his brother’s friendships were so important to him. “What are you, a matchmaker or Henry Higgins?”
“Both.” He looked away but not before she saw something flash in his eyes that was more raw and real than anything else she’d seen from him.
Whatever he was hiding, he wasn’t about to fess up over shakes and diner food. Not yet, anyway. But that part of her that loved to work out puzzles and observe until she’d figured out exactly why someone or something behaved in a certain way was already taking notes. Hudson might act like just another rich playboy, but there was more to him than that. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it until now.
Before she could dig in, though, Donna delivered their food, and the next twenty minutes were filled with devouring their meal and questions from Hudson about the secret life of ants. By the time Donna collected their empty plates, he’d eaten half of Felicia’s fries in addition to his own and managed to get her to spill a
ll the salacious secrets of the honeypot ant and their neighbors in the Arizona desert, the harvester ants.
“So, it’s an orgy?” he asked, his light brown eyes huge. “An actual ant orgy?”